Decode
by takeawildchance
Summary: No one interacted with Troy Bolton. No one dared to figure out the mystery behind the pale skin, red bags under his eyes, bruises, stone knuckles, and large biceps. But if someone does, are they willing to stand up to him? A must read! Extra Genre:Romance
1. Supermassive Black Hole

**Hey, I'm Faith, and I decided to make a series/story.**

**It's called _Decode _and the chapters are named off of songs. So, since the story is called _Decode_, which is a song, I don't plan on any chapters being named this, but if so, so be it, I guess.**

**If this story may seem weird in the beginning, just read on—most will be cleared up at the end of the chapter.**

**And if you can't see it, this chapter is named "Supermassive Black Hole". This song is by Muse, and they didn't have a space between _super_ and _massive_.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Gabriella's books we clutched tight against her chest as her best friend, Taylor was explaining a grade she got on her Chemistry test. She was informing Gabriella of the questions she got incorrect, and cursing on herself how she got them wrong. However, Gabriella was paying no attention to her friend. She was having a good day today, actually. Only if she knew all about Troy, Troy Bolton, her day would have been perfect. She was into mysteries, and knew she absolutely would figure this one out. She was looking at Troy, who suddenly looked at her, and made Taylor suddenly pay attention.

"Are you even listening to me, Gabi?" Taylor asked her.

"Um, yeah. Mr. Albiro gave you a bad grade on your test."

"No. I changed the subject to Gym Class, and how Samantha pushed me for no reason. I was so pissed at her. This is a horrible day for me, and that hardly happens! And guess what else? Chad and Alexia were flirting earlier today! Ugh!"

Once again, Gabriella looked over at Troy and eyed all of his features. Red bags under his eyes, pale skin, and bruises about everywhere on his body. His look at Gabriella wasn't polite, nor was it rude. She heard someone ask him what he was looking at, which made her face Taylor again.

"_Operation: Troy Bolton Mystery _isn't going to work, Gabs. Troy is a private person. So is his sister. They don't talk about family members or anything." Taylor told her. "And those bruises on Troy, and cuts on Heather, his sister, are rumored to be from a group of boys that beat them up asking for money. I don't believe that rumor. But whoever asks Troy about his dad, or about the rumors, he'd beat them up without saying a word."

Gabriella's face was blank, but she was deep thought. "Is there anything else?" She asked, as she kept walking.

"I don't know if I should say any more," Taylor said quietly, looking back at Troy's death expression. Let's just get to my car." She scurried to her car, grabbing Gabriella's arm with her. What the two girls didn't know, Troy and his sister, Heather, hop into his black car and follow them out.

Heather didn't like hunting other people down when there were people talking about the Boltons. The bleach-blond just followed along with Troy, not wanting any anger from him. She sat in the passenger's seat looking straight ahead. Troy knew he had to slow, not to get anyone suspicious. Heather sighed at his sneakiness.

"Troy, they were just questioning themselves, there's no need to be mad about it."

"No one should be in our business—not for what we've gone through, because it's rude and nosy." His voice was stone as the words spilled out of his cold lips in purposely manner. Heather didn't flinch; she stood still, used to his actions.

"That's not what I'm saying, Troy. Just because—"

"Shut up, Heather." He said sternly, and loudly. Heather froze in her seat.

Yes, this was the Troy Bolton she was used to—no this was the Troy Bolton you had to get used to.

* * *

He was best know for his painful knuckles, large biceps, red bags under his eyes, the bruises on his pale skin, and the mystery that came along with the package. It was Troy Bolton—the "ever-so-popular" guy at East High. He didn't seem popular, but everyone knew him, so that's how he was labeled. No one dared to figure out the mystery, for they knew what consequence it would bring to them. He would get so angry, he'd beat them down, and tell them if they ever questioned his life, they'd be beaten so much, they'd die. He had no friends. He didn't want anyone dragged into his horrible, screwed life. So to summarize that; he was being nice to them even if he was being mean to them.

However, even though his sister was going through the same thing, Heather was the opposite of that. If someone asked about the Boltons' lifestyle, she'd just sigh and say, "I'd prefer not to talk about it", or "it's not too important; my brother just over reacts". She had a lot of friends, and was always nice to others. She looked like her brother, just a dirty-blond version, indigo bags under her eyes, and long, wide cuts on her body. She was thinner, and her skin was a little tanner than his. Her knuckles were hard and she had hard abs, which no one would've guessed she had. She was so nice, who would've thought she was so strong?

* * *

"Just go in your house, I drive off."

"Okay, Tay. I'll call you." Gabriella waved to her friend as she unlocked the door to her house, and walked in. Troy stopped his car a house behind. Heather looked out the window, and shook her head.

"No. No, Troy. We can't do this to her. Her life's perfectly happy—we can't ruin that. She didn't know."

"I'm going to."

"Fine. Do it. I'm going to do whatever it takes to stop you."

"I know what I'm doing," Troy protested.

"Then why are you doing it?"

Taylor drove off.

"Don't, Troy."

Troy sighed heavily. "I won't do it then. Only this one time."

"Thanks." She smiled at him, but he didn't reply—all he did was drive back to their home reluctantly.

* * *

Dialing numbers on her cell phone, Gabriella flipped through the pages of last year's yearbook Taylor had given her. Gabriella was a new student at East High—she arrived about six months ago—so she didn't know the "rules" or "guidelines". She pressed TALK and listened to the ring.

"Hey, did anything happen?" Taylor asked her when she answered.

"No, they just drove off. I'm looking at last year's yearbook, and when were these pictures taken?"

"Hmm…about in the beginning of the year."

"Oh. Wow. In the picture I'm looking at of Troy—"

Taylor's voice began to become fast. "Gabriella, I told you not to worry about that. It can be dangerous if you do." She hung up, and Gabriella frowned. The picture she saw of Troy was happy. He was tan, no bags under his eyes, no bruises—he was smiling a big, confident, welcoming smile, and his shirt wasn't dull. He was even the basketball team's captain. If she were ever planning to solve this mystery—it would take a lot of patience—_a lot of patience_.

* * *

After buying her lunch, a light olive-skinned girl with piano black hair, and chocolate eyes, looked around for a place to sit at. All seats by her friend were taken, and all others were taken, too. Well, most of them. There was a table with at least three extra seats. Problem was, the table held Troy and Heather Bolton. Not many people were scared of Heather, but whenever she was sitting by her brother, Troy, that made her posted with danger. Heather held a fry between her fingers and twisted it, deep in thought. Troy was looking at all the tables, glaring at each back that was shaking with laughter. Laughter. That was something Troy Bolton hardly had—matter of fact _never _had. Gabriella was taking a wild chance if she wanted to sit by the Bolton kids. She walked at the table and sat a seat away from Heather, and two seats away from Troy. Heather looked at Gabriella, and dropped her fry. She looked at Troy, who was suddenly flaming. Gabriella shook lightly, becoming afraid. Heather looked back at Gabriella and smiled at her.

"Hi, I'm Heather." She greeted. Troy became stiff, and grabbed his lunch, taking it to the trashcan and throwing it away. Heather looked back at him, and then Gabriella. "Um…we should talk later, I have to go." She left a blank girl, sitting alone. The lunchroom fell silent while all eyes were on Gabriella.

"Ooh, she's gonna get it from Troy!" Someone yelled. Gabriella shook, and Taylor went to go sit by her. She looked at Gabriella, and shook her head. Gabriella ran her slim hand through her hair and sighed.

* * *

She was pretty rich. She was pretty beautiful. And everyone thought her life was perfect, but it really wasn't. No one truly understood her. She was lost in a world, always trying to figure out mysteries. When you thought you knew her, you really didn't.

Then that's what made yourself mysterious after you became a friend.

* * *

_Taylor remembers the first day back from summer, getting ready for junior year of high school. When she reached her locker, she felt a cold breeze coming her way. She stopped filling up her locker, and turned her head to see what was coming her way. It was Troy and Heather Bolton—one beginning their sophomore year, the other, their junior. They were pale, dressed in all white with the exception of their jeans, and bruises and cuts were all over them. Their faces were stone._

_Considering how they looked last year, this was a big change for East High._

_Both beings were tan, and happy fellows—you hardly saw them sad._

_They looked unreal—vampires nearly. But that wasn't true—they were still human, just with problems in their lives._

_Horrid problems._

_You didn't mess with the Boltons or dare to interact with Troy, or your happiness would be gone—absolutely gone._

_

* * *

_**That may have been short, but I hope for others to be longer.**

**So, please review, and give advice.**

**Don't be afraid to favorite for chapter updates, and tell about this story. I'm hoping for this to be popular—sort of how **_**runninequalslife**_**'s stories are. Popular.**


	2. Encore

**Chapter Two: Encore (Preformed by Linkin Park, Jay-Z)**

* * *

Troy threw his black book bag into the back seat, and waited for his sister to do the same then hop into the passenger's seat. When she did, continuing to babble, Troy sat in the driver's seat, locking in his seatbelt in.

"…There was absolutely no reason to react like that!" Heather said to him, even though he was paying no attention whatsoever. "Where are we going, anyway?" Troy kept looking ahead, because just saying the place burned his throat. His throat. He shook his head—his sign for letting Heather know of what he was talking about. "Troy, do we have to? I don't want to…" Heather whined. She didn't want to see her father. Not after what he'd done to Troy and her.

"Grandma said we have to visit him once a week." Troy said, trying to prevent his voice of any cracking.

Heather shook her head furiously. "No. No Troy, if you make this turn, I'm walking to our house."

Troy's hands stiffened on the steering wheel.

* * *

"Er, excuse me, Miss…um…Arrington?" Gabriella's voice was shy as she asked the aged secretary if that was her name. The secretary shook her head to let Gabriella know she was just filling in. Gabriella nodded. "Oh, well, would you know where the yearbook two years ago would be?"

"Mm hmm." The aged substitute walked over to the copier, where there were stacks of yearbooks in the past years. "2004…2005…2006." She handed the book to her. "Don't tell anyone I gave it to you. Just give put it over there when you're done."

Gabriella nodded again. "Okay. Thank you, ma'am." Gabriella walked out of the office, and traveled to the library to read the yearbook she had received. She sat down, and flipped through the pages. She was staying after school later than usual—which was the reason she took her wreck-of-a-car to take her home. Taylor had a ton of homework to complete, so she didn't have time to wait for Gabriella. Right when she found the page Troy was on, she had to close it right away because of the sound of loud clicking high heels. She turned her head to the door to see two women—one young, one old—looking around with their noses in the air. The blond one was none other than the Sharpay Evans. The redhead was Lucille Bolton. She had wrinkles all over her face, which were not there two years ago, and thin body parts. All of this made her look fragile.

"Hmm…" Sharpay chimed. "You said Troy Bolton, right?"

"Yes. Troy Bolton." The smell of alcohol and cigars flooded out of her mouth. The smell was so strong; it filled up the room.

Sharpay stifled a cough. "Oh, he should be in the"—cough—"gym."

Lucille frowned. "Are you sure?"

Sharpay's eyes watered from the aroma. "Yes, yes, just go!" She shoed her out of the room, and walked around the library. Gabriella watched her, just waiting for any smart remark she _had_ to share. "Oh!" She said when she saw Gabriella, putting a manicured hand over her chest. "I didn't even see you there! What was your name again? Isabella…Gabriele…" She put her hand in the air, as if she were trying to catch it in her hand.

"Gabriella." Gabriella smiled a polite smile.

"Ah! That's it." She sat down beside the chocolate-eyed girl. "Do you believe that Lucille Bolton? Alcohol and drugs is her life!"

Gabriella shrugged, her jungle-green jacket following. "I don't know. She could just do it to numb pain."

"I guess—after all, her husband is a drug addict himself—but no one can care for him. There's just not enough money for the Boltons."

"What's her husband's name? Do you know?" As much as Sharpay annoyed her, she probably could give some good information.

"I don't know. He had a two-name first name. Oh, I have it. Jack-Lewis. Jack-Lewis Bolton. And I shouldn't say husband, either. They got divorced on the last day of school last year, and Troy was the first to live with his dad. His dad started drinking, and started to be addicted to cocaine—it got so bad he abused Troy. Every time Troy has to go there, Jack beats him, ties him up, and locks him in the biggest freezer in his house. He does the same when Heather goes. It's for twelve hours when they're locked in. But he remembers to put it on a reasonable degree, so they don't freeze to death. As much as he abuses them he knows he can't live without him. They're the key to finding his heart. Ohmigosh! Why am I telling you all of this?"

"Because I won't tell a soul."

Sharpay sighed. "Okay, then. I have to go for ballet practice. Nice talking to you!" She left the room, and Gabriella looked in the yearbook again. She didn't think she quite got all the information she needed for her "investigation", but she sure got enough to get to the main idea.

* * *

Samantha Harrells walked in the small apartment. She looked around, the rich brown hair on her shoulders copying her very move. She moved delicately in her gray suit, eying everything in the "home".

"Who is paying for this house?" She asked the pale boy and girl by the window.

"I am." Troy spoke up.

"How much a month?"

"One hundred."

"And how are you paying for this?"

"_Red Robin's_."

"What are your hours?"

"Everyday—seven PM to ten thirty PM."

"How much money do you get an hour?"

"Ten."

"Hmm…two-hundred ten a week. Heather, Troy—I suppose I cannot take this dump away from you. When is the next time you see your parents?" She questioned. The siblings answered with Saturday thru Sunday—Troy would leave to his father, Heather to her mother. They didn't want to be with each other when they went to their parents houses, for the reason of see their devastated faces. If you thought you knew what happened to them…you were so wrong, Sharpay.

* * *

Heather zipped the zipper to her suitcase Saturday morning. "I'm running away." She said to Troy. Troy laughed a dry laugh.

"Just because you're going to Mom's doesn't mean you're running away."

"No. I'm going to Stacy's. I'm not going to Mom's drug-addict ass."

Troy was taken back by her words. As many times as he heard it, he never heard his sister say it. "Don't say that, Heather." Troy's voice was frozen.

"You know she is!"

"I do! But it's not like she doesn't want to make it better! She was fired from her job, no one's hiring her—so she can't pay for rehab!"

"But she's going to cut me, Troy! Then something in my mind tells me to cut myself!"

Troy slung his bag over his shoulder and huffed, making his voice stern, and stone as it usually was. "Fine. Run away."

"It's just for the weekend—I'm coming back on Sunday afternoon."

"No, you want to, you can. I don't give a damn." He grabbed his keys and coat, then walked out of the apartment. He walked in his car, remembering the wallet he had left on the counter. It was fine by him—just in case Heather didn't make it to Stacy Crabtree's home, she'd have some money to use.

As he drove downtown to his father's house, he couldn't help but think about the fifteen year-old he had just left. She didn't know what she'd do; she was young and confused. Troy remembers how it felt then when he was fifteen, but he knew Heather had it much worse. But all the peer pressure you're put on, and being physically abused every weekend so harshly—no one needed that. When he reached the house, he stopped two houses away from it. He took a few deep breaths, knowing this was when the abusing would happen. He pulled up slowly, and saw his father run out of the house, opening the door to his car furiously. He pulled him out and dragged him inside.

"You were supposed to be here at nine!" Jack-Lewis Bolton yelled in his face the alcohol burning Troy's eyes. "It's nine forty-four!" He punched Troy's cold face, and then threw him on the hardwood floor. Jack bent down to start choking him, and punched him whenever Troy screamed for help or for Jack-Lewis to stop. Jack told Troy not to move. He was getting the bloody rope he'd always use to tie his children up. Troy got on his feet silently and waited for Jack to return.

"I told you to freeze!"

"What the hell do you want, Jack?" Troy said stonily, his voice shaking a bit. "What do you want?"

Jack smirked. "What? You think by your saying that I'll feel _bad_? I'll stop this? Haven't I taught you not to be gullible?" He punched Troy in the stomach, which made him fall to the ground, giving Jack the only chance to tie him up. Once he finished the process, Troy was thrown into the freezer.

* * *

_Gabriella did her best to open the door to her father's house silently. Problem was, her father was sitting in a chair with his legs crossed and hands folded. Her heart was racing, knowing how much trouble she'd be in._

"_You're late." Her father, Daniel Montez stated._

"_I know, Dad, but I had to do extra work at school."_

"_You know I don't like it when you are late. I have things to do!" He yelled. "Now, c'mon."_

_Gabriella stepped back a few steps, and shook her head. "No, please, no," she pleaded. Her steps were limited when she hit the door. Her father pinned her harder against it, and began to do the "things he had to do"._

—**Friday, after Gabriella came home late from the library of the school.**

* * *

"He did it again, Taylor," Gabriella sobbed quietly into the phone.

"I'm so sorry Gabriella," Taylor sighed.

"And he's going to bring other people to do it to me next Friday. I have to hide, or something!" Her voice was struggling to be quiet as she whispered in the phone.

"Summer starts in a few days, so you could just say you're going to your mom's house for summer."

"But it'd be too late," Gabriella sobbed.

"I really have no idea what to tell you, Gabs."

"You have to help me! He does more to me than this!" Gabriella shouted, hoping she didn't wake her father. Taylor gasped, and Gabriella started crying. "Help me Taylor…please. You have to help me somehow." She pulled her shirt up to wipe her eyes with the black tank top.

"I really would if I knew how, Gabriella. Look, I have to go to sleep. Text me around one AM, okay?"

"Okay," Gabriella sniffed.

"Alright…bye."

"Bye."

* * *

Opening the door slowly to her mother's house, Heather stepped in quietly, hoping not to wake a soul. The strong smell of alcohol and cigarettes burned her eyes and nose. She stepped over every dirty article of rags or clothing as she made her way to the den. "Ma?" She whispered. "Mom?" She was scared to take her sleeping mother. When Lucille was sleeping, she looked stress-free. All of the wrinkles were erased, and the purple and blue bruises on her wrist looked lighter. The bruises reminded Heather about everything that happened in the past year. "Mom, wake up," she said, tapping Lucille gently. Lucille shook, and looked up at her daughter and smiled.

"Hey, Heather." She said, reaching for a hug. Heather looked at her arms, noticing the darker bruises. She hugged her gently as she possibly could and decided to tell Lucille her former plans for the weekend.

"I almost didn't come," she said. "I almost went tot Stacy's. But Troy made me feel bad, so I decided not to."

"Oh. Well, thank you, honey," the redhead smiled weakly.

"I don't want to be here, Mom," Heather said honestly. "I can't be here. It hurts too much."

**

* * *

**

**I hope that was long:)**

**Thanks for the awesome feedback, too. It's so cool to see what you think of my stories:D Check out the **_**D**_** E **_**C**_** O **_**D**_** E banner in my profile, too.**

**Oh, and I got two new books today, lol.**

**-Read Profile-**

**:)  
**

**Please review, and as you probably noticed, this episode gave more information, and had a little more language. So review, and tell me what you think! And no reviews on if I'm rushing the story or not; I have everything planned out. Trust me. :)  
**


	3. Rehab

**Chapter Three: Rehab (Preformed by Rihanna)**

* * *

Here was the Bolton children's weekly schedule:

**Monday:** Go to school; be at the courtyard when possible.

**Tuesday: **Same as Monday.

**Wednesday:** Go to the gym after school for five hours.

**Thursday:** Same as Monday and Tuesday, but do not turn in any homework due that day.

**Friday:** Go to school, get home as soon as possible, do homework, and get any rest you can.

**Saturday:** Go to a parent's house, be abused verbally or physically.

**Sunday:** Sneak out of your parent's house late at night, stay at a local JC Penny's until twelve, and go back to the junky apartment.

This is how every day was planned for both high school students.

* * *

Now, Gabriella wasn't caring about that mystery involving the Bolton family. She was caring about how she was going to escape from her mess, without any more people knowing about it. She ignored her friends, wore things that weren't cared for, and her hair—ew…her hair. It was disgusting. Well, how she was going to escape from her mess was the thing she was caring about most. And since she was ignoring her friends, her friends started staying away from her. She was hoping Taylor didn't tell her…issues. But she knew she wouldn't do that. When Heather Bolton began noticing this change in the girl she never officially met, she wanted to talk to her about it without Troy knowing. So when the time came (at lunch, because Troy was sent to the library) Heather made her way towards the girl sitting alone at a table.

"Hi," Heather smiled, sliding on a seat next to Gabriella. "I met you, but I never got your name. I'm Heather if you forgot."

Gabriella looked at the smiling Heather. "I'm Gabriella…nice to meet you…again."

"Same. How are you?"

"I'm good," she lied, forcing a smile that was weak. She was miserable. She didn't want to talk to Heather, she wanted to talk to her brother, Damien, who was now in prison for something he didn't do. Damien was killing himself by secretly slipping cocaine into his wrist and taking steroids. Gabriella knew what a bad influence he was, but he knew how to help with any situation but him self's.

"That's good."

"How are you?"

"Can't complain," Heather lied.

"Are you sure?"

"Uh, yeah. Why?" Heather chuckled a bit, to lighten the conversation.

"Nothing, never mind."

"Are you scared of my brother?"

"No. Why?"

"Because you should." Troy said, hovering over the two girls. He looked angry—the clenched fist explained what he probably was planning next. "Did she ask anything?" He asked his little sister.

"No, so there's no need to throw a fit about me talking to her."

"Hi, er, I'm Gabriella."

"I don't really care." His voice never changed, it was still stone.

Gabriella curled her lips back, and started playing with the strings on her jacket. As she was looking down, she noticed four big books in each of Troy's hands. He had eight, over seven hundred pages, hardback books. "What are you doing with those?" She questioned. It wasn't intended to slip out like that.

"Why does it matter to you?"

"That wasn't meant to be spoken. It slipped." Gabriella replied.

"Don't make it happen again."

"Okay." Gabriella looked down, and started fiddling with the strings again. Heather looked at her, frowned, and shook her head. Gabriella turned to her lunch plate again, picked the untouched food up, and walked to throw it away, then left the lunchroom.

* * *

**Quick Note: Slight writer's block at the moment, so please excuse any stupid errors.**

She slid each leg into the pair of sweatpants by her feet. She pulled the sweatshirt over her head, and felt the heat rise underneath her arms. _Good, heat. Helps me with anger, _she thought. Her silky hair was put in a sloppy bun, and her red, white, and black tennis shoes were ready to hit on the red track. She jogged out of the locker room, and started running on the track. She was running faster than she ever had. The cool breeze painting on her face prevented nothing. She even could've sworn a ladybug had flown into her mouth. Yet, her thin, long, fit legs kept going—kind of like an electric fan that hung over you in a living room of some sort. She kept running. A whistle was blown. She changed her route to the woods by her. Although she could not hear it, the gym coach was calling after her.

"Wh—where is Gabriella going?! Gabriella! Gabriella! Come back here!" Coach Vanessa was suddenly running after Gabriella. Gabriella dodged each branch in her way, jumped over each root and fallen tree. Eventually, the coach got hold of her in time. She grabbed Gabriella, whose eyes were producing miles of tears down her cheeks.

"Let go of me!" She screamed. "I want to get out of here!"

Yes. She was sure of it. She was losing her mind out of everything that was happening to her. It was all too much. How could anyone handle it?

"Get a hold of yourself, Montez!"

Gabriella sobbed, taking deep breaths between each. "I…need…my…mother…" she gasped.

"What? Gabriella, calm down!"

"Damien…Mom…Ariel…here…"

"What? Gabriella, you need to take deep breaths!"

The pitch-black haired girl continued to gasp. "Help…please." Gabriella collapsed out of nowhere in Coach Vanessa's arms. The coach threw Gabriella on her back, and hurried, as fast as she could, to get Gabriella back on school grounds. Something was up with this girl, something bad—this something needed to be fixed. Badly.

Vanessa was checking Gabriella's pulse when she got to the bleachers.

"Emily!" Vanessa called to a girl that was gossiping next to a blond with a cell phone in hand. "Get out that dumb cell phone of yours, and put some use to it! Call the nurse, and if she doesn't pick up, call 911!" Emily jumped by her urgent tone, and started dialing the nurse's number. When she didn't answer, she called 911.

"911?"—pause—"yes, at Yardville High School in Seattle"—pause—"yes, Washington! A girl passed out in gym! Hurry! We think her pulse is slowing!"

"Gabriella," the Coach said, shaking the girl gently. "Wake up. Wake up."

She shook her again, but there was no budge. The coach removed her well-fit cap, and ran a hand through her hair that fell down her shoulders. The emergency sirens were screaming, and three men ran out of the vehicle. Two pulled a gurney out as the other helped Vanessa carry Gabriella. Another man was talking to Emily and the blond.

"I'm Emily, and this is Danielle."

"Tell me what you were doing," the man asked.

"We were all running on this track, but Gabriella kept moving forward, and ran into the woods." Danielle said.

"And we saw her pass out." Emily added.

"And that's all?"

"Yes." The girls spoke at the same time.

* * *

During classes, the intercom of Yardville High School boomed.

"Please excuse this interruption. Gabriella Montez is being taken to the hospital. I repeat: Gabriella Montez is being taken to the hospital. Keep her in your prayers, and friends of Yardville, be close to her. This is Principal Jones, Yardville High School."

Gasps escaped hundreds of mouths. Gossip was already jumping. From homeroom, Troy glanced over at his sister, his face being shocked. As he tried to compose himself, he tapped his fingers and foot. Heather was drawing something as she was doing before, with a blank expression. A blank expression in which no one could read, not even her brother.

* * *

Damn.

Her _father _wasn't even there with her.

Not watching her, or anything.

He wasn't even in this state.

He had drove down to Nevada, ready to do some heavy gambling.

Heavy.

He would be gambling off women, hotels—just material things.

Not even money—just things for himself.

Beep…beep…beep…beep…

"CLEAR!"

Press.

"Let's try again—CLEAR!"

Press.

"One more time—_CLEAR_!"

A shaking body.

"She's alive, one last time! CLEAR!"

Fluttered eyelids.

Gabriella looked around at the environment. She glanced at the hopeful faces, and the IV that was attached to her. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She tried to move her hand, but it wouldn't move.

"Don't move, Miss Montez. Sit still."

But she couldn't. She tried to get out of her stance.

"Miss Montez, please stop!"

"Let me out of here!" She screamed.

* * *

**Please, please review more! I love hearing what you have to say!**

**And I know "Rehab" is sort of an anti-love song, but I wanted to use it in the way she (Gabriella) was missing her family, and needed rehabilitation to get back on track.**

**Review, and if you read this and have a FanFiction account, favorite the story so you can get chapter updates!**

**- Faith.**


	4. Stop and Stare

**Chapter Four: Stop and Stare (Preformed by One Republic)**

**

* * *

**

"What did you say?"

"I—I didn't mean to!" the freshman in front of him wailed with a strain voice.

But Troy kept pulling him up, clutching onto the boy's neck, prepared to wring it. "That's not what I asked!" Troy yelled.

"I'm sorry, okay! Please; just let me be!"

"Troy!" Heather shouted, running up to her brother, pulling his cold hand off of the boy's neck. "Troy!" She repeated. "I'm sorry, Jim," she said to the boy Troy just released. "Go. Now." The boy ran off as fast as his chubby legs could run, leaving Troy and Heather. "Why did you do that?"

"I told you already—when I didn't do anything to that Gabriella girl, that would be the last. I heard him talking."

"Why ruin other people's lives, Troy? I don't get it!"

"I ruin other people's lives to prevent their lives from being ruined!"

"Do you hear how stupid that sounds?"

"No, because it's not!"

Suddenly, the bickering siblings became the talk of the school. It gave more buzzes, and more bruises—from Troy, of course.

* * *

Gabriella shook her head furiously. "Can I get out of this chair, please? I'm missing a big test." The doctor in front of her shook their head, and continued to tap their pen on the clipboard in thought. "I'm telling you, the girls at school were overreacting." The doctor repeated their previous actions, and Gabriella knew she was going to lose it again. She was shaking. She pressed her wrist on the armrests to keep herself still.

"Well, from our test, you are rapidly having panic attacks. Is there anything going on in your life?" The doctor asked.

"No! There's nothing! Can I go, please?"

* * *

How come he never got caught? How come he was never snitched on?

People were afraid.

When he walked down the hall, automatic space was made for him and his sister.

Did Troy mean for this to happen? No, and yes at the same time.

* * *

_His hand rested on her thigh, twisting the hem of her short cocktail dress. His eyes melted in her chocolate orbs. Her breathing sped up as he leaned in slowly. She was frozen in place. His lips touched hers softly, and she gasped in his mouth. He pressed her closer on his body as he deepened the passion._

And that was the first time Gabriella Montez had dreamed of Troy Bolton.

* * *

A lady had just asked her if she was sure that the visiting hours were still going on. Was that a trick question? "Um…no…I'm not too sure." She ran a hand through her messy silk hair. "Can I see her or not?" The receptionist tapped her pen on her bottom lip as she faced the seventeen year-old in front of her. She had many choices to make. (1) She could call the cops on the teen, (2) allow her to see her mother, or (3) just tell her to leave. The visiting hours were done with, and letting this girl see her sick mother would be unfair to others. But then again, this could be the last time she'd see her mother _ever_.

The receptionist took a deep breath. "Take this sticker," she started, picking up a visitor's pass, "write your name on it, and go to room 411." She as she was told, and walked to the room. The door was closed and she could see through the glass window. Her mother had leukemia, which was very deadly. She knocked on the door, and her mother signaled for her to come in. She opened the door slowly and her mother smiled a weak smile.

"Gabriella," she gasped, mostly struggling for air, "lovely to see you again, Darling."

"Yeah…how're you doing?"

"Worse than better."

"I can imagine."

"So have you met any cute boys?"

"No, none yet. Have the doctors checked on you?"

"Less than an hour ago. How's your father?"

"Good."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, Mom," she smiled, comforting, and sat down, closing the door behind her. "Well, Mom, I came here to…waste time. It's all because of Dad, though. He's not being…Dad. I don't know what to do about it."

"What is he doing to you?"

"There's really nothing to talk about, Mom. It's no big deal."

Her mother was Jennet Capri, formally married to José Montez; however, the married couple filed a divorce after Jennet was diagnosed with breast cancer. José claimed he "didn't want to get infected", so he pushed Jennet as far away from him as he could. Although Jennet had survived the cancer, José still thought she still was "infected" and decided not to try their love again. They had divorced when Gabriella was thirteen. They were a happy, wealthy family, until…the diagnosis.

"Are you sure, Honey?"

Gabriella closed her eyes, and frowned, running a hand through her hair. "No, I should just go. Bye, Mom," she said, getting up. "Love you." She left the room and ran out of the hospital.

* * *

Troy looked at his sister from across the hall. Heather smiled at him, and mouthed, "Go, go!". He walked onto the stage of the gym. It was the next day at school, and there was a big assembly full of announcements. Troy was the last speaker, and the audience went silent when they saw his pale body. He cleared his throat up in the mic.

"Um…" his stone voice was unusually fragile, with a shaking touch. "I under…um…stand that I've been a slight threat to the um—" he was interrupted by a fire alarm, and a child running into the gym with burnt clothes.

"There's a fire!"

* * *

She sighed into the phone. "I was in the fire Grandma, but…everything's okay."

"Okay," the old lady replied. "How's your mother?"

"She's doing fine."

"GABRIASSELLA!"

"Actually, Grandma, my dad's calling for me…I have to go. Love you." She hung up, and squinted her eyes, then murmured a quick prayer to herself.

* * *

**I know, I know, I'm lame. Sorry this came out so late, and is super short, with the frequent scene changes. I have to confess, I had a huge writing blackout. I mean, I stopped writing my book, AND this. So I am BEGGING you all who are reading this to review this story and some of my other ones, PLEASE!**

**Oh, and happy new year, of course:)**


	5. Crushcrushcrush

**Chapter Five: Crushcrushcrush (Preformed by Paramore)**

**Author's Note: **_I just want to say that I'm changing the rating of this story. Why, and what to? Language, and maybe some other stuff. But I'm still debating on the other stuff. It's changed to M, and I want people to favorite this story, because not all M stories are looked at all the time, so Alert or Favorite this story. And, one of my reviewers thinks this is a Twilight and HSM twirl. It's not. I want to remind people that Troy is NOT a vampire. He's 100% human. Review! I love them. :D And! I think you've (after this chapter) had realized enough of Gabriella and Troy's different issues (yes, there is more of the issues coming soon). Which one do you think is worse? Let me know in reviews! I would love if you asked why. If it's so hard (since they are both tragic issues) just let me know why. Tell people about this, too, please:) And you might notice, this chapter owns a lot of awkwardness. God bless, and enjoy. _

**

* * *

**

Gabriella didn't know what to do. She just froze in place. Her chocolate eyes widened in fear, and surprise. His cold breath brushed her face softly. She felt shivers run down her neck. No one was watching her, were they? Her arms were burning. Her shoulders were aching. Her hands were shaking. Shaking like hell. She almost passed out, but she couldn't. From a distance, he looked…scary, but when he was right in front of you, he looked beautiful. Handsome. She had imagined this, but seeing it in reality was a different story. They were nose to nose. He could've injured her like that; just pressing his stone head to her nose, but he didn't. He froze, too. He wanted to say something, but he couldn't. He saw a story in her eyes. He loved her eyes at the moment, and she was loving his, too. But he and she knew that they couldn't. He knew what his reason was, but not Gabriella's. She knew what her reason was, but not his.

Gabriella felt the bruises on her shoulders grow, and the pain stung.

They could've kissed, but they didn't. They could've done some other stuff, but they didn't. They just stared.

His eyes became softer into hers. "I'm…sorry." He released her shoulders. Gabriella fell to the floor, in shock, and looked up at him in disbelief. "I'm sorry, okay?" He snapped at her. She didn't say anything. He stared back, in disbelief in himself.

"It's…you're…I…" She stuttered.

"Stay away from me, okay?"

"I can't. I'm going to learn about you Troy. Why can't you just let me in your life?"

"Because you shouldn't."

She rose from the floor. "Listen, Troy. I know you have bad things going on in your life. Hell, I do, too. But I'm not going to stand here, let you put your hands on me, and not let me have anything in return?" He didn't know what to do or say back. An automatic reflex was to punch her in the cheek, and he did. Her hand flew up to the bruise, and she caressed it softly. Her eyes were growing wet blobs, and her vision blurred.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"I don't care about the fucking apologies, Troy! I don't even care." She pushed him out of the way, and walked to the cafeteria. She was so glad that summer break was two days from then, and that she had a summer job in California. To add to that, she'd stay in California for two and a half months without going back to New Mexico.

When she got home, she knew exactly what was going to happen. Her depressed, weed-sniffing, alcohol drinking dad would rape her, then cut up her back. Damn, when you said it like that…it's horrible. No, when you say it in any way, it's horribly horrifying. Was she used to it? No. She'd never be.

At times the nonsense half of her begged the sense half to kill herself. But that Sense half, whom she named Angie (short for Angela, the angel), shook her half, and said no. There's something good coming up for you. Nonsense half, whom she named Debbie because it kind of rhymed with devil, was growing on Gabriella. Debbie took a knife when her dad was out one night, and slid it deep in her wrist. She almost died. But of course, she didn't. Angie was the one who Taylor loved. Her best friend. Then Debbie (who, too, loved Taylor) and Angie gasped when Gabriella put her key in the keyhole of her house. They had forgotten about Taylor and her other friends. Gabriella pulled the key out, and ran up the street. During the run, she put her key necklace over her neck again. She was running so fast the wind blew the key back at her shoulder, and showed her stomach. The dirty hair she held poorly on her head never fell on her back. It stayed in the air. She ran through a busy street with a green light. She ran through the traffic, receiving loud honks back after her. When she was in the middle of the busy street, she held up her palm, a signal for stop. She soon realized it was too late for that. Debbie told Gabriella to slow down, just to get hit by a car, and have her life ended. But Angie walked over to Debbie, and pushed her down. When Debbie hit the floor, Angie gasped, and threw her hand over her mouth. "Angie!" Gabriella shouted to no one that was real. She kept running though. A pedestrian she pushed while shouting Angie almost called 911 to get some help for the brunette she saw running like mad, and crying Angie aloud.

Gabriella needed to see Taylor because she was supposed to be helping her with the yearbooks. The year was coming to a close. Even though she knew they were complete, she was one of the people to fulfill student's order forms. She passed a piano black car all of a sudden. She stopped immediately. No Heather Bolton, but a Troy Bolton. A rock sat by her foot. _Throw it. Screw him over. _Debbie told her. _You know he has issues, _Angie objected. _He won't be able to pay for damages. You have issues, too, you know._

"Fuck you, Angie!" She shouted. She was really going crazy. Troy turned his head when the light was red. He looked the light, then looked back at her. He stared, and she stared back. He was on his way to the freezer, if you know what that meant. He looked at the light, which was still on red. He turned back at Gabriella, then stepped out of the car, receiving honks from angry drivers. She ran as soon as both of his feet his the concrete. He ran after her. His hand touched hers. She froze._ Why didn't you get the rock? _Debbie asked. Gabriella couldn't breathe. _Fuck off…um… _Gabriella stopped thinking. He squeezed her hand, and pulled her closer to him. She pushed a foot back. He grabbed her left hand, and pulled her even closer.

"Accept my apology." He said in his stone voice said. She was shaking. And no, it wasn't because of the 66ºF temperatures, it was because she didn't know what to say, or do, but shake. He was coming up to _her_. No one else; her. He was begging for her apology, pulling her closely too him.

They could've kissed, but they didn't.

They could've done some other stuff, but they didn't.

A minute passed, and they still looked. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He spoke before her, his voice beginning to shake. "Say it," his said lowly for her to hear. "Tell me it's okay."

"It will never be…okay." Her voice was shaking like an earthquake in California, and she lowered her head. "But," she looked at him again, seeing his crystal blues crystal for the first time. He. Was. Pleading. For her. Only her. He'd made traffic, just for her. "It…is." She stopped, then started again. "Okay." The bay was just beside them, beside the sidewalk, which was next to the traffic. She had guessed the clear, yet still polluted, water had clashed with Troy's eyes to make them brighter.

The eyes were always dark, unwelcoming. But today, they were different. Her throat opened up, and her speaking was no longer shaky. She started walking, and beckoned Troy to walk with her.

"Do you…have any plans for, um, summer?" she asked.

* * *

Danny was just like Debbie, just Troy's male version. Aaron was just like Angie, just a male version for Troy. Danny wanted to punch Gabriella in the face for barging in Troy's life. Unlike Gabriella, the angel side was growing on Troy. _Say, "not really, you?" to her, Troy! _Aaron pushed. _Disagreed, _Danny started, _I'd say, "what's it to you?". _

"Not really, you?" Troy decided to say.

"Yeah, I have a job in California." Gabriella told him.

"What job?"

"I'm going to be working at a country club, as a lifeguard. It's called Cali Springs."

"Sounds fun."

* * *

_Fun? _Gabriella thought. She had never heard Troy say fun. Never.

She stopped walking. "Um…Troy, what happened earlier to day…"

"Don't worry about it."

What the hell?

Did she just see a smile on _Troy Bolton's _pale face? His harsh face with red bags? No…impossible. She blinked. That was a smile. A crooked smile, which showed his teeth. His perfect teeth. The blinded her, almost. She thought she couldn't breath. She wanted to fall asleep or just stop the world for one second, a minute, a quarter, or an hour—maybe a whole day.

So she fainted. On purpose. She fell back, hitting the rail protecting from falling. But she was one of the people who fell. Down to the rocks, and she rolled into the water. Troy didn't know what to do for a second. He jumped over the rail, and hopped on the rocks. But he was too late. She was floating into the water with her eyes closed. He stopped on a rock, and stared. He didn't feel it, but a warm tear slid down his cheek. He was numb all the time from being in a freezer every other weekend. It sounded crazy; being in a freezer a whole weekend. But a crazy person did that to him. He being put in the freezer strengthened him. So, reader, I guess that made him crazy. About her.

He waded in the water to her, and picked her body up. He didn't feel if she had a pulse or not. He was numb. She was beautiful, even if she was dead. He shook. His drenched body was freezing cold against his cold body.

* * *

_He's carrying me. He thinks I'm dead. I'm not, am I?_

She opened her eyes. He was crying. For her. Gabriella wanted to get away from him. He was scaring her. He looked down at her, seeing her chocolate orbs scared, and curious. He pulled her closer to him, and hugged her tightly, like a stuffed bear. She felt like a baby in his arms. She seemed so small and fragile, he was afraid if he'd drop her, she'd die. Like a guinea pig, she shook, and whimpered. She rolled out of his arms, and placed her feet on the floor. She stared at him. "I have to go," she breathed, very lowly, and walked up the rocks to the railing. She hopped over on the sidewalk. The traffic still was frozen, to her surprise. But she tried not to notice. The traffic was from Troy, and she didn't want to think about him.

* * *

(A) You know how sometimes, you know you have to apologize to someone, and you're so afraid what they'll say back—even if you know them as well as you think?

(B) You know how sometimes, you like a person so much, but there's always one flaw that pisses you over the edge?

Gabriella felt _A_ first, then _B_ second.

Her stomach was turning when she rang the doorbell to her friend's house. She was shaking because the cold air, and the water on her body didn't mix well; it made her cold—freezing to be exact. Taylor had opened the door, and right when Gabriella apologized, Taylor became outraged.

"_What?"_ She snapped. "It's been almost a _month_!" She didn't let her in. It started to rain. "Everybody's been worried _sick_ about you, and _now_ you come?"

"You know why I've been acting so weird lately!"

"No, actually. You haven't talked to me in a month. Remind me?"

About the "B" part—Gabriella hated how Taylor would do something like this. She was making her cringe.

"You know what—I'm not going to repeat it. I know you told everyone."

Taylor didn't speak. She just stared at her.

"You did!"

"I was just trying to get you more support—" she whispered.

"More support? All I need is you to support me! Not tell people I don't trust about me!"

"I'm sorry…"

"No! Don't worry about it, not at all." She stormed off to her home a mile from there.

* * *

"Troy…honey…you're late."

Troy walked to the kitchen and heard his weak mother follow him. He pulled something black out of his pocket—his infamous wallet. He tossed it on the counter harshly and looked at his mother. Lucille frowned at him and the wallet.

"What is that for…" she breathed, wheezing, fearing if Troy would give it to her.

"You need help, Mom."

"Don't worry about me, honey." She placed a hand to his cheek. He gripped her wrist softly, and pulled it down.

"I am. You need help. In my wallet, there's about a thousand dollars from my job, and savings from my bank account. I have a thousand dollars left at home, and that's for Da—Jack." He knew what he was doing was right, right? He had 500 dollars in his pillow case, but that was for Heather and his trip to California. He didn't want to say anything about it to Gabriella, because the ironic summer trips would obviously freak her out.

Lucille stepped back. "Keep your money, Troy."

"Just," Troy started his voice loud. "Take it." He cooled his voice down. "I have to go…to California."

"What do you mean?"

"It's a summer trip." His lips hit her cheek softly, yet quickly. "Love you." He left. Lucille stared at the money, and picked it up.

Shopping.

* * *

Final zip.

It was the last day of school. She was finally home. Gabriella sighed and placed her hands on her hips as she looked down at the suitcase on her bed. She glanced over to the folded note. _Dad/José _was written neatly on the front. She unfolded it to reread it. She sat on the bed.

_José, I should've told you of my job in California. If I didn't, I am telling you know. I will leave today, and will come back one day before school starts again. I won't miss you. Bye. Gabriella._

She glanced over her room.

Her father was still in Vegas.

She had three other suitcases left, unused. Some things were still up. She started to fill each of the suitcases up. She ran to her father's room, and searched through his drawers for emergency money. She knew how much money it was without counting; she had written it down when she was ten years old (before the divorce, and during a family meeting). It was five thousand dollars—I know, too good to be true, right? She grabbed all of the money, and ran back to her room, stuffing it in her purse. She had everything she needed. Tickets for the plane ride, and everything else for living (she was going to live with her cousin in California), even her lucky teddy bear. Only other thing she was missing was Troy Bolton. It was only for the summer, right? Maybe she'd finally be to freedom. Finally.

She rolled three rolling bags to the foyer of her house. The other suitcase was on her shoulder with her purse. She opened the door to the foggy summer day, and threw her things in the trunk of her car. She hopped inside her car, and drove to the airport. She was on her way to freedom.

* * *

**Author's Note: **_This must've been the weirdest chapter in the world. The real story will start on the next chapter. And, by the way, I'm so lame for posting this so late. But at least it's long, right? And, I did say "I" a few times in this chapter. That's my point of view, just letting you know. Thanks for reading, and review! :D_

_AND: I accidentally said "I" In the first chapter. I was aboust to have this story in Gabriella's POV, but I changed my mind! Sorry for that error.  
_


	6. Chasing Pavements

**Chapter Six: Chasing Pavements (Preformed by Adele)**

**

* * *

**_Gabriella Montez…Lauren Spencer – Pickup._

Gabriella grinned at the sign. A dirty blonde haired girl holding it was looking around the crowd of people flooding out of the plane. Gabriella finally had washed her hair before she left Washington. The quarter-length sleeve t-shirt she wore with faded jeans didn't really make her pop-out, but she ran over to her cousin. They looked nothing alike, and shared completely different last names. If you thought this was impossible to have a cousin that looked nothing like you, and had a completely different last name than you, it was possible.

"Lauren!" Gabriella exclaimed to her.

The cousins last met when Gabriella was a baby, and Lauren was six. Lauren looked like a pure Cali Girl, and Gabriella looked…well, you couldn't classify her in any category. She was still beautiful, almost exotic.

"Gabriella!" Lauren put the sign down to her side, and hugged Gabriella tightly. She released. "It's been so long!"

"I know." Gabriella smiled.

"I take one of your bags." Lauren took the black rolling bag and walked Gabriella towards her red convertible. She put the luggage in the trunk and hopped inside the driver's seat of her car. She drove along to the condo she lived in alone—paid by her wealthy parents. To kept the silence dead, she'd asked questions about Gabriella's immediate family (which she had no idea would be sensitive questions). "How's Damien?" Lauren asked Gabriella, informing Gabriella's twenty-seven-year-old brother in prison.

Gabriella hesitated, then spoke. "He's fine."

"What's he been up to lately?" the brown eyed blonde asked her.

"Nothing, really."

"What about your dad?"

"He's been…great."

"Your mom?"

"She's good."

All Gabriella was saying were lies. Her brother was horrible. Her dad _was_ great, but he was numb. And her mom was sick in a hospital bed. Gabriella was never one to vent her feelings out, just pouring them out when worse things are happening, probably.

* * *

Final zip.

Heather Bolton sat on top of her suitcase.

"Hurry up, Heaths! We're leaving in less than ten minutes—before Samantha comes!" Troy called.

Heather picked up her suitcase and walked it to the front door. Troy was still writing the note for Samantha. His penmanship was all in caps, and slanted to the right. _S. Harrells—Heather and I will be gone for three months. The RENT sign is up for just that amount of time. Don't get a hissy-fit. We have all the money we need—and by the way, I gave a thousand to my mom, then a thousand to my dad (Heather gave the money to him). See you then – Troy. _He heard the doorbell ring. He panicked. Samantha had to be here in ten minutes, not one! He fixed a pillow on the couch, and headed to the door of his apartment. He took a deep breath, and opened the narrow white door.

* * *

"This is amazing."

"What?"

"Your condo. It's…amazing."

Lauren giggled. "You said that already."

"I know, because it is, Gabriella admitted

"Thanks."

There was an awkward silence, before Lauren asked if Gabriella wanted anything to eat. Gabriella didn't feel like eating; she never did. It was unhealthy, not to mention stupid, but, she did it. To be numb. "Can I…take one of your cars for a second?" Gabriella asked shyly.

Lauren shook her head. "No can do. I mean, I trust you, but my parents said I'm the only one to drive them. I can give you money for a taxi…?"

"No, I have plenty. Thanks. I'll be right back."

"Be back soon."

* * *

"I can't believe you're here."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. Just let me in."

"No. Why are you here?"

"I heard you were leaving, man."

Troy sighed. "I am, but only for the summer. But where did you hear that?"

"It's all around school."

"I'm leaving today, so—"

"Just tell me where, and I'll try to visit."

"Sacramento, California."

"Alright. Call me when you can."

"Okay. Bye, Chad."

* * *

_**Day Two in California:**_

_I am starting work today. A girl name Elaine is supposed to show me around. There's awkward friction between Lauren and I. She tries to have small talk, but I keep turning it down. I don't really want to talk now. I try not to turn her small talk down, but it just comes naturally._

_I just learned my swimsuit is too tight. Good thing I have all this money; I can buy me a new one._

_Yesterday, since I needed a taxi, my driver kept asking all these personal questions, and smoked. I could smell the alcohol coming from his voice. After seven minutes, not even meeting my planned stop, I got out of the car, and gave him no money._

_I have a coworker named Timothy. I read his background, and he only has one infraction. He's been put in jail for seven months before when he was eighteen. He's nineteen now, and is my co-lifeguard._

_I miss Troy, and it's only been three days since our previous encounter._

_That's all for now, off to work._

_**Written by**__: Gabriella E. Montez_

* * *

**Author's Note: **_Short, and sucky, I know, but it's better than nothing. Please review! I know I have a ton of readers, but most of them don't review. I get emails telling who alerts me, and favorites me, but they don't review! So please review. If you do, I'll put out three long ones. And, I'm taking questions for this chapter. They have to be questions about what would be happening in the story, like: _Is there a character that will die? _(feel free to ask that). PLEASE REVIEW! I know this is my shortest chapter ever, but review on other chapters.  
_


	7. All We Are PART ONE

**Chapter Seven: All We Are **_**–part one-**_** (****Preformed**** by One Republic)**

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* * *

**

"Hi, I'm Gabriella."

She put her small, thin hand out for him to shake. His large, vein-y hand gripped hers tightly. She thought her arm would fall off. He shook it, just like an old man in your weekly Sunday church. He introduced himself as Timothy. He was huge; large shoulders topped off his bulging figure. His voice was deep when he spoke. He was tan, with perfect white teeth. His hair was almost bald. His mint gum slammed in Gabriella face as he chewed it toughly. As he chewed, no annoying sound was made. _Thank God, _Gabriella thought to herself. Gabriella, like many people, was smack-o-phobic.

"Alright," Mr. James Fulton, manager of California Springs, told the two teens (yes, Timothy was, surprisingly, a teen). "Gabriella, get in your swimsuit. Your shift ends at twelve. Timothy, you fill in for two hours."

Gabriella checked her watch. "But it's eight thirty now. Sir, that wouldn't be fair. You see, he only has to work for two hours, and I have to work for three and a half," she stated to Mr. Fulton. He straightened his gray suit.

"Miss Montez, I didn't finish my statement," he lied. He had known he was wrong. He was a sexist. He had hoped Gabriella was stupid enough for her not to catch his purposely error. "After Mr. Anderson's shift, you start an hour shift. The pool closes at six thirty. Timothy does the rest."

They nodded.

"Enjoy being a lifeguard." Mr. Fulton left the pool area. Gabriella turned to go to change into her swimsuit.

"Sexist." Timothy muttered. It was unintelligible to her ears.

She turned to face his green eyes. "What?"

"Nothing. I'm gonna get breakfast. Want anything?" His husky voice asked.

"No thanks. Treat yourself."

"Okay." He left to the kitchen.

* * *

The heat under his hairy armpits grew heavier on his body. He unbuttoned his suit, vest, and button-up shirt. _Shit, _he cursed on himself silently. He had forgotten to take off his tie. He was going to go heavy on his unhelpful deodorant. He noticed the problem. His armpit hair was growing into a bush. The deodorant was just turning into flakes on the bushy brown hair. He grabbed his shaving razor, and then put it down. He might _break_ that. He grabbed a pair a scissors and chopped off about a centimeter. He pressed down harder with his deodorant this time. He redressed, and looked in the mirror. Satisfied, he made his classic two thumbs up, grinned at himself, and said, "Sexy." He grabbed his aviator sunglasses, and left his Uncle's home.

Where was he going, you ask?

Ironically, California Springs.

* * *

"No!" She blew her whistle loudly. "No running!"

Another kid was rushing to get inside the pool. The next kid did a dive—without the diving board. Gabriella groaned loudly before blowing her whistle. "No diving!" She shouted. The kid brought his hands up. "None!" She repeated.

"Need me to cover up?"

She looked up at the large shadow covering over her. "I think I'm good for another hour."

"Alright." He got up on the lifeguard stairs, and made a dive into the outdoor pool Gabriella was lifeguarding. She groaned loudly.

"NO DIVING!"

* * *

_Should I give up, or should I just keep chasing pavements even if it…_

The ringtone caught Lauren's attention. She looked up from the TV, and looked over at the couch. Gabriella had left her cell phone. She walked over to it and looked at the caller ID. It was unknown, but she answered it anyhow—even though it wasn't her phone. "Hello?"

* * *

The other person on the line didn't recognize the voice—he had a feeling it wasn't _hers_. "Um…Gabriella?"

"She's not here right now. She left her phone. This is her cousin, Lauren."

"So she's already in California?"

"Pretty much; yeah."

"Well, when she comes back…could you tell her to call me back?"

"Sure, who is this?"

"Troy."

"Oki-doki. Bye, Troy."

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**Author's Note: **_Reviewing is very much appreciated. Please do it. By the way, Gabriella's ringtone is Chasing Pavements by Adele.  
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	8. Warwick Avenue

**Chapter 8: Warwick Avenue (Preformed my Duffy)**

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"You answered my phone?!"

"Geeze, I didn't finish. Your phone rang, and I answered it, asked for a message, and wrote it down. Here it is," Lauren explained to the flaming cousin before her. She handed a small post-it. Gabriella snatched it, angrily, and read it.

"_Troy" called. Wants you to call him back._

Gabriella reread the paper and stuffed it in her pocket. She walked past the couch and grabbed her phone. "Thanks," she mumbled, ashamed she let her bad day get the best of her. She walked to her room, closing the door behind her, and sat on the queen-sized bed. She pulled the paper out of her pocket and read the number. Although she could have got it out of her phone, she absorbed the number better on written paper (just Troy's phone number, not all numbers). She stared at it. She took a deep breath and picked up her phone.

* * *

"Troy, wake up," Heather whispered, shaking her brother softly. When he opened his thin, vein-y eyelids, everyone saw his sparkling blue eyes—nearly lighting up the airplane with a low opacity tint of blue. "Your phone's vibrating."

He jolted up and grabbed his phone. He looked at the candid picture of Gabriella he had taken on the last day of school. It was taken by her right side of her face while she was leaning against her locker. She wasn't looking at anything in particular; just ahead, too preoccupied to see Troy with his camera. Her name came up with the beautiful photo of her. He hit the talk button immediately. "Hello?" he answered, stretching, to sound more alert.

"Um…you called," Gabriella said into the phone.

"I did. You didn't answer."

"No, I was at work. I left my phone at my cousin's home. Was there something you wanted?"

"I wanted to…" he trailed off in her ear.

"Hello?'

His voice sounded scratchy as he said something.

"Troy?"

"I'm losing you," he said, indicating the signal in the plane. Both heard a beep, and looked at their phones. _DISCONNECTED._

* * *

"He's loosing me?" Gabriella whispered aloud.

* * *

"Gabi!"

Gabriella turned her beautiful head, and took off her sunglasses as she looked at Timothy running her way. "Gabriella," she corrected. His arms moved as he ran, but Gabriella was sure it wasn't fat. Pure muscle. He was a hunk, she could tell, but he wasn't handsome like Troy. To her, there was a difference. His wife beater tank top was wet with a few strands of curly brown hair on it. She didn't know where the hair was from, but it seem suspicious.

He rolled his eyes for a quick moment. "You have to come see this!" His broad hand grabbed her arm. Gabriella felt bruises grow. She closed her eyes to a horrid flashback of her father.

"_Get over, here, dumbshit!" her father yelled, pulling her arm tightly up the stairs. He opened up his bedroom door and threw her on the bed. She closed her eyes and counted to ten in her head. _Twenty-two, _she thought, after taking deep breaths. Twenty-two times being sexually abused by her father._

"Please…" she whispered, "let go."

Timothy grinned like she was joking. He pats her back. She flinched. "Sorry." Her back hadn't yet healed from her father's knives. To be touched there, it was painful.

Timothy guided her to the pool, and she saw a guy with a fluffy 'fro in a waiter's suit getting up from the water. She turned to him. "You did that?" she asked, fury growing in her body.

"Well, Gabi—"

"For the last fucking time, Timothy, it's Gabriella!"

Chad walked up to Gabriella and tapped her shoulder. "It's okay, Gabriella."

"Suit up," Timothy suggested to her.

"Don't think she's in the mood for that."

"I can speak for myself!" Gabriella protested to the debating men.

"Fine!" the men said at the same time, and pushed Gabriella in the pool. She closed her eyes, and let herself sink. She fell slowly, going down ten feet. She lost the grip of her purse she had from just arriving, and the sunglasses in her hand fell to the floor of the pool. She didn't try to swim, she didn't want to. She just wanted to die.

* * *

"She's not coming back up."

"CHAD!"

Timothy and Chad turned their heads. It was either of them that yelled, and it wasn't any of the members at pool. Everyone looked.

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**Author's Note: **_Thanks for the reviews! Follow me on twitter; join the fun! Search: rejazz7. My icon is black with purple dots. Please review! :D Oh, and _All We Are PART ONE, Chapt. 7, _will have a part two in a later chapter.  
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	9. Never too Late

**Chapter Nine: Never Too Late (Preformed by Three Days Grace)**

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"Troy, uh, I…am…she…" Chad couldn't speak. He could tell Troy was flaming. He saw the pale hands on his body clenched in fists. Chad pushed Timothy in front of him, and exclaimed, "It was his idea! He said she'd get up, but she hasn't!"

Troy rushed as he removed his jacket and t-shirt.

Not too far behind, an worried Heather looked on at the incident. She was mostly staring at Timothy; he was beautiful in her eyes.

Troy jumped in. He saw Gabriella's blurry, watery figure rising up from the water. Her eyes were closed. She was dead. Why was everything horrible happening to her? The gym incident (panic attack), the fire, falling in the bay at the sidewalk, and now this…then Troy finally came to mind to what she was doing. She was attempting to kill herself. He remembered, the time he had saver her by the bay, her eyes closed out of nowhere. Troy stared at her. He shook himself and finished making his way to her. He picked her up and floated to the steps of the pool. He laid her by the edge. He pressed on her stomach. "Wake up!" he screamed.

Heather ran over to Troy, Timothy and Chad. She smiled at Timothy for a fast moment, and then turned to Troy. "You're doing it wrong," she whispered to him. He looked at her, his eyes glassy and rich blue. His face was needy, and he looked at her making water spurt from Gabriella's mouth. She coughed two times. She lifted her back up And coughed up more water.

Troy hugged her automatically. His bare upper body hit hers harshly. "Gabriella," he gasped. "I thought I…I thought I lost you…but we couldn't let that happen…God, Gabriella," he hugged her tighter.

"Gabriella," Heather offered, "I'll to freshen up." She took her hand, and walked her to the bathroom.

* * *

"Who are you?"

"Tim Anderson. You?"

"Troy Bolton. What happened?"

"He pushed her in." Timothy pointed to Chad.

"He said it'd be a joke and she'd come right up!" Chad explained.

Troy rolled his eyes. "I have to get dressed." He walked. Timothy threw Troy's clothes at his back.

* * *

"What happened?" Gabriella asked ringing water out of her hair.

Heather shrugged. "I really don't know, but I think those two boys pushed you in the pool as a joke, and you didn't come up. When I came, I saw you starting to float. You were dead for, like, a minute. Troy picked you out of the water and I gave got the water, and I spurted the water out of you, then you started breathing.

"Thank you," was all Gabriella could say.

"My pleasure."

* * *

Gabriella felt the need to walk up to Troy at the end of his shift as a waiter. He was putting his white apron up under his name. He almost walked out the door; throwing his keys up in the air, then catching them. She stopped walking, and put her hand on the metal counter. He stopped walking.

"Wait," she whispered in a tiny voice. When he turned, she looked down.

"What?" he asked, not a tint of rudeness in his voice. He started walking over to her.

"Thank you…for saving me."

"Why are you suicidal?" Troy asked her without a "you're welcome".

"I don't…" she lied, without finishing.

"Why?"

"I'm not," she protested, trying to be as convincing as possible.

"You're lying! I know you are!" he yelled.

"Where did this come from?" she yelled back at him.

"You…deny everything, holding yourself back from me. Preventing…"

"Preventing what?"

Before she could protest, he was pulling her closer to him by her waist. "Us," he whispered. That was it. She was kissing him. Her lips crashed on his pair lustfully. He deepened the kiss, and pulled her up, placing her on the counter. He pushed her back against the wall. The kiss never stopped.

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_Review._


	10. Piece of Your Heart

**Chapter Ten: Piece of Your Heart (Preformed by Natasha Bedingfield)**

**Author's Note: **_BEFORE you read on, and get confused, this chapter is in GABRIELLA'S point of view. The previous chapter was short, but it showed Troy and Gabriella's odd love for each other. I must tell you, nothing inappropriate happened. It was a long, lustful kiss between the two. Enjoy this chapter, and read and review my other stories._

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Last night was weird.

We argued, for a reason I truly didn't know why, then he pulled me closer, and I kissed him. I had told myself not to love anyone else; it'd be an open door to my living hell. My life was screwed—there simply was no room for a lover to come to me. But I think I'm getting off track.

I was asleep on Cali Spring's Kitchen 5's floor. I rolled out of his weak, asleep arms and hit the wheels of the moving metal counter. I hit my head hard, and I bit my lip to fight back a loud shot in pain. I lifted myself off the floor, and I stared down at Troy's fit, sleeping body, and stared at his watch. It was past three in the morning. Immediately, I sat on the floor to wake him up. His bright blue eyes looked at mine in a loving way.

"Check your watch," I told him, smiling. I couldn't help it. He was too beautiful not to smile at him.

He looked at his watch, and snapped up immediately.

"How did this happen?" He asked me.

"I don't know; I just woke up, probably two minutes ago."

"We have to get to our homes…whoever you're living with is probably worried as hell." His voice started getting lower. "Doesn't really matter, considering the fact I practically kidnapped you." Now his voice sounded sarcastic, aiming towards himself.

"At least I liked the kidnapping," I said to him, getting up, biting my lip, trying to be sexual, I guess.

His lips hit mine like a solid rock. He pushed my mouth open with his lips. My tongue slipped in his as I wrapped my arms around his neck. His hands gripped my hips, pushing me closer against his body. I melted against him. His arms dropped to his sides, and his released me.

He looked down. "We need to stop this."

"What?" I asked him, fearing the worst.

"My mother's an alcoholic. Same with my father. He puts me in a freezer every other week. I live on my own with my sister. I work at Red Robin's. My mom's a drug addict. My dad smokes weed. My sister cuts herself. And I…"

I sat down at the chair at a table. "You what?" I whispered, playing with my thumbs."

"…Am madly in love with you."

I couldn't believe it. He said the strongest word in history. Love. I used to know love. I used to be loved. I don't know what it means anymore. I pressed my right thumb against my left thumb really hard. I felt it crack. I think it broke, but I ignored it.

"My mom is in the hospital suffering from leukemia. My father rapes me with his friends. He throws knives in my back. He has sex with other woman. My brother is in prison for something he didn't do. He takes steroids. My sister died, and it was my fault. I'm screwed up all around the edges. I wanted to die. But you…you remind me why I live. You make life easier to live."

He stared at me.

I couldn't believe it. I was more screwed than he was.

It was like we were getting married. Like our confessions were vows. I didn't like this.

I looked up at him with glassy eyes. "I have to go." I got up, and started walking to the door. He grabbed my arm, and pulled me into a hug. I sobbed in his chest, and felt a teardrop on my back. "We're going to be alright, Troy…we are…someday…" I couldn't stop crying. He hugged me tighter.

"I hope so," he whispered.

* * *

"What the hell were you doing out so late?"

"I fell asleep," I told Lauren as I walked to my room.

"I'm paying all the bills for this house so the least you could do is come home on time."

I turned around. "You don't pay for this house. Your parents do. And you didn't buy everything in it. Mostly everything was bought by your parents. And those worthless cars outside—first of all, why do you have two cars when you won't let me drive one? Any way, you didn't pay for them, and you're not paying for them now."

"Yes I do!" she protested.

"The gas doesn't count, sweetie."

"Ugh! Go to sleep or something!"

"Thank you." I walked to the bed, closing the door behind me.

* * *

"TIMOTHY!" I yelled. It was my break and his shift. He hadn't arrived yet. I was looking like an idiot screaming some dude's name. I looked around the area, and spotted a large back in the corner. His head was moving like he was kissing someone. I walked closer, and noticed he was giving a tongue bath (haha, my brother told me that phrase) to some small dirty blonde. I tugged on his wife beater. He pulled away from the girl, then I saw her face.

"HEATHER?!" I shouted.

* * *

Lunch time finally came for me. I was so happy. It was at the same time Troy had lunch, and of course, we sat together at the table in one of the kitchens at Cali Springs. I beat him there, of course; I rushed. But when he got there, I just thought.

"What's wrong?" he asked me.

"Nothings wrong with me…it's a couple…I…um…saw. Today."

"Who was the couple?"

"I'd rather not say…"

"How did they look?"

"Before I tell you that…do you like Timothy?"

"No, not at all. Not one bit."

I mumbled, very low: _Then that doesn't help this._

"The guy was large, 95% muscle, probably. He had a wife beater on and green shorts. And the girl was small. Much younger than him—dirty blonde, in a black swimsuit, and white flip-flops. They were making out."

He looked at me.

"What were their names?"

"Timothy and Heather."

"Positive?"

"Yes."

"How old is Timothy?"

"Eighteen or nineteen."

"And my sister?"

"Fourteen for fifteen."

He got up and left the room. I knew I should never said anything.

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**Author's Note: **_This should be one of the only chapters in Gabriella's POV; there might be more. The next chapter is in Troy's POV. Please review. And read other stories of mine and review those, too._


	11. You're Not Sorry

**Chapter Eleven: You're Not Sorry – CSI Remix (Preformed by Taylor Swift)**

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I probably would've laughed at what Gabriella just told me. It sounded ridiculous. Timothy's nearly twenty, and my sister just turned fifteen. I never really had a problem with age when two people loved each other, but what was only if they were in the same age range. He's an adult, and she's a teen. It truly disturbed me.

I was at the pool, and my head turned from angle to angle trying to find the brick wall hovering over a small body. I didn't find them. So that meant no lifeguard, because he was to busy tongue-tossing with my sister. That really aggravated me. Timothy was being immature, making out with a kid. Then a disgusting thought flew in my mind. What if they went to one of the rooms together? What Timothy _that_ low? I tried not to believe that thought, but it was impossible not to. I asked a few people by the pool if that saw them leave, and all of them pointed to the same direction. I ran to the direction, and I was right. I was standing in front of the Country Club's member rooms. I punched the wall beside me angrily. I felt every body part of mine turn into the stone it used to be before Gabriella came in my life.

I walked back to kitchen, and sat beside Gabriella, not saying anything.

"You found them," she said, not as a question.

"Yeah." My voice was stone. This alerted her.

"What happened?"

"I didn't _see_ them; everyone at the pool pointed to the same direction where they went."

"Where did they go?"

"One of the member rooms."

"No…" Gabriella said, shaking her head.

"Yes, I swear."

"I'm telling Mr. Fulton." She got up, but I grabbed her wrist.

"Please don't."

"I'm not going to tell him he's making out with a fifteen-year-old—"

"Yeah…I don't think they're making out any more," I mumbled.

"I'm telling him Timothy's asleep, and not doing his job. He can find them where ever they are."

"No! Just keep it as it is." I yelled sternly. She stared at me in my eyes.

She blinked twice. "Excuse me?"

"I didn't mean to yell, just…please. Keep it. I'll handle with Timothy."

"I won't let you go to jail for attempted murder!"

"What? You think I'm _that_ bad?"

"No, I—"

"You think I'm so screwed, I would try to kill someone." I laughed dryly. The stone-ish part of me was coming back. My hands balled up in fists. Sometimes, when I was in this stone mode, I don't control anything, or really remember my relationships with people. "Well, at least I'm not suicidal. At least my life isn't so fucked up like yours. Can't believe I wasted my time with you." I walked off, pushing her out of my way. She fell on the floor. But, at this point, _I didn't really care._

**End of Troy POV.**

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She didn't lay there. She snapped up and raced after him. She wouldn't let him leave her. She had been left too many times—physically and emotionally. She caught him, heading to lockers to get his things. She grabbed his hand and turned him around to face her. Troy ripped away and kept walking.

She didn't even know how she started to cry.

He stopped walking.

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**Author's Note: **_I'm SO sorry for the late update. This chapter was short, I know, but I have had a serious case WRITER'S BLOCK. Please review! I only got two last time._


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